


Ephraim the Mage

by ttacticianmagician



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Action, Comedy, Fluff, Friends to Enemies to Friends Again, Gen, Magical Shenanigans, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Worldbuilding, sibling bonds, technically a sickfic but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 00:37:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21329344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ttacticianmagician/pseuds/ttacticianmagician
Summary: Ephraim comes down with an incredibly rare and powerful illness that lets him use magic in disastrous ways. Instead of waiting for it to go away, he's determined to use this opportunity to become... a mage? It'll take the patience of a twin sister, the guidance of a teacher and her pupil, and a reunion with a former friend to get him through this ordeal in one piece.
Relationships: Eirika & Ephraim (Fire Emblem), Ephraim & Lyon (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Dreams of Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so this is an old fic that I started writing like a year and a half ago. It actually stemmed from a dream and then the more I wrote the more it spiralled out of control. I got motivated to post this because of the upcoming Ephraim/Lyon duo hero banner (at the time of publishing) and I'm still really fond of this fic. But because it's so old, please excuse any outdated FEH references. Also if you notice any sudden writing style shifts, that's probably from when I took a long break and came back to it later. Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy reading this!

Most nights, Ephraim dreamed pleasant dreams. He dreamt about his sister, his friends, and his home. Sometimes he dreamt of one-upping Innes in a very satisfying way. Other times, he dreamt of a war finally won and a kingdom finally at peace. And other times, he dreamt a certain someone and only a certain someone. That kind of dream left him very confused in the morning, so he wasn’t quite sure if it could really be counted as a pleasant dream.

When his dreams weren’t pleasant, however, they were downright nasty. Ephraim didn’t have a traumatic history like some Heroes here did. But being the crown prince of a country at war did lend itself to insecurities, that then translated into nightmares when he closed his eyes. On those dreadful nights, Ephraim dreamt of his homeland destroyed, his loved ones gone, and a former friend that was the cause of all this. He dreamt of the moment he would finally face this ‘friend’, and then lacking the strength to defeat him. He dreamt of being too weak to protect those he cared for. Or worse, being too weak to satisfy his lust for battles.

Tonight, though, he dreamt of fire. Fire that blazed through the darkness and scorched the void. The flames emitted ripples of heat that distorted the shadows somehow. In their wake, they left nothing, as their source was just nothing too. 

Ephraim was reminded of the prophecy that Alfonse recited upon the arrival of M ú spell and King Surtr. How did it go? Flames unquenchable, insatiable, and undying? Trees fall, mountains burn, and the stars become cinders? He was surprised that he remembered even a little bit of it, as he wasn’t normally the kind of person to pay attention to that stuff. But somehow, he could tell that these flames were not the destructive flames that their enemies wielded. Sure, at first he felt like the inferno was charring his skin and burning his insides. But after being bathed in it for what seemed like eternity, it cooled down to a comfortably warm temperature. Like he was relaxing in a hot spring. If he was awake, he would question what all this meant. But instead, he went along with it and basked in the fire’s glowing warmth. It felt like it was inside him now, heating him up like a fireplace lit inside a small but cozy room. Occasionally the flames would jump up and tickle his throat. When he coughed in response, smoke and sparks poured out of his mouth. He coughed and coughed and emitted more smoke and sparks until he was coughing so hard, he woke himself up.

His bedroom was cold and dark, very much unlike his dream. Yet he was still burning up underneath his blanket and his throat was dry and sore, like he really did spent the last few minutes coughing up smoke. Ephraim placed his right hand over his forehead and yanked it away after he almost burnt his hand on himself. All these symptoms were shaping into one of the worst fevers he ever had. And it came on so suddenly. He didn’t remember hanging out with anyone sick lately, or driving himself too hard in the cold weather. It was a terrible time to fall ill, too. Ephraim was chosen to be on the Arena team next season, and if he couldn’t recover in time then he would have to be replaced with someone weaker. Not only would the team suffer from his absence, he would also be sorely upset over missing his chance to shine.

But even though he felt terrible now, he was sure that it wasn’t anything that a trip to the infirmary couldn’t fix. He would just have to visit first thing tomorrow morning. Right now he needed a drink of water. Ephraim pulled himself out of bed, scattering dust all over the floor, and grasped the candle holder on the table next to him. He must have forgotten to put out the candle before he went to sleep because it was still lit. It would certainly explain the meaning behind his weird, fever-induced dream. But while he stared at the candle in a daze, he realized that it was still standing tall and cool to the touch. 

Perhaps he was just imagining things. He did just wake up from a strange nightmare after all. Ephraim clutched the candle holder tightly so he would drop it as he walked out the door. The castle hallways were usually well lit with torches, even at night. He had never seen anyone attend to them, and the torches never burned away, so he assumed that they were fueled by a spell of some sort. But tonight, whatever magic kept them burning must be weaker than normal. Whenever he passed by one, they flickered and dimmed for a few seconds. Some of them died down so much, Ephraim had to completely rely on the light of his candle. Luckily, the trip to the washroom was a quick one and he didn’t have to spend a long time in complete darkness.

The flames of the torches inside the washroom also shrank upon Ephraim’s entry, making the small room feel even smaller. To the side was a sink embedded into a marble counter with a large mirror hanging over it. Ephraim made a beeline to it, set the candle down on the smooth, stone surface, and turned the faucet on. Water poured out into his cupped hands and he slurped it down eagerly. The cool liquid soothed his parched throat immediately and he spent a good minute or two drinking as much water as he could. He would have continued on for longer if the water hadn’t suddenly turned icy cold. Actually, it wasn’t just icy cold. It turned into literal ice. Ephraim scowled as he dumped the slushy shards from his hands down the drain. Fjorm must be messing with the water temperature again. Although he wondered why she was awake at this ungodly hour.

The water refreshed him a little bit, but his senses and mind were still hazy. And he was felt boiling hot. He splashed some ice water in his face to cool him down, but the rest of his body was still burning like a furnace. Ephraim took his shirt off to cool down even more. A cloud of black dust stirred up and threatened to make him sneeze. After a few false starts, the urge to sneeze died down and he was able to look at the dark-colored particles more closely.

His face grimaced again as he realized what he was examining. He swiped a finger to pick up some dust that now coated the once pristine sink. He sniffed it cautiously and was greeted with a sharp, smokey scent. In the gods’ names, why was he covered in soot? Ephraim held up his shirt and found it streaked with black smears and burn marks. He thought for a moment that maybe his candle accidentally burned him on the way over here, but he definitely would have noticed that happening and its flame was too small to cause this much damage. While he tried to recall anything that might have caused this, the haunting dream he had came to mind. He remembered the hellish flames that consumed him inside and out. He remembered the fire flaring up within him, causing him to cough up smoke and cinders.

Ephraim had heard stories of dreams becoming reality before. Those dreams turned out to actually be visions from the gods, messages from a faraway, powerful mage, or other similar occurrences. But there was no way the inferno in his most recent dream could be real. He would be a smoldering corpse if it was. He forced himself to cough to make sure there wasn’t a fire inside of him. Nothing came up except air.

How else could this mystery be explained then? Was it a poorly judged prank from someone? He couldn’t think of anyone that would go to such great lengths for a joke. Especially since everyone would know what kind of consequences he would bring to any potential prankster. Ephraim studied himself in the mirror, searching for any more clues. Although his shirt was ruined, his pants were only lightly dusted by ash. His skin was similarly clean, and still very hot to the touch. He assumed that he was hot because of his fever and not because of any actual fire, but he still couldn’t shake off the dream theory. It felt just so unbelievably real, he would be more surprised if it wasn’t the cause of this. To test that hypothesis again, Ephraim grabbed a towel from a nearby rack and placed it on his shoulders. Again, nothing happened. He let out an exasperated sigh as he put the towel back to its proper place. He should just go back to sleep. All this worrying about mysterious soot and dreams was addling his brain more and making him actually believe all this nonsense. He was sure that as long as another nightmare didn’t wake him up, he’ll be able to sort everything out in the morning.

Or not. Just as he was about to head back to bed, sparks started flying from his fingers. He shook his head to make sure he wasn’t having a fever-induced hallucination. Yes, there were actual electrical sparks dancing around his fingertips. 

This was too much for him. Ephraim shook his hands to try and get rid of them. That only made them crackle louder and dance more furiously. What in the gods’ names was going on here?! He had no idea what to do now either. The sudden production of sparks was not a situation he thought real, much less encounter. Panic overtook him as he sought a number of ways to extinguish them. Burrowing them in his destroyed shirt didn’t work. The sparks just burned it more. Drowning his hands in water didn’t work either. They just increased the crackling to an ear-splitting volume and forced him to pull his hands away.

Strangely enough, during all his attempts to put them out, they didn’t hurt. Even as they landed on his skin, they didn’t leave any marks. Perhaps this was just a dream then. This was a continuation of his already frightening dream of fire. He didn’t really wake up back there. He was still trapped in this nightmarish situation. So there was only one way out of this madness. Ephraim gave his arm a sharp pinch.

The sparks turned into an arc of lightning as electricity coursed through his body. He was only aware of the blistering pain and his screams of agony before everything went black.


	2. Road to Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ephraim learns the cause behind his strange phenomenons, eats cookies, blows up a glass of water, and has a talk with his sister.

For the rest of the night, he didn’t dream of anything. There was only darkness and a distinct lack of any other sensation. He preferred it that way, if he were to be perfectly honest with himself. He had a crazy night with wild dreams and even wilder happenings in real life. A little bit of rest and tranquility was just what he needed right now.

But his body wouldn’t let him sleep forever. Eventually, the encroaching sunlight and faint murmurings slowly roused him from his slumber. Ephraim’s eyes remained closed a bit longer as the rest of his body woke up. He had imagined that his awakening would be more painful. But thankfully, he only had fatigue seeped into his limbs and a dull headache. Even his fever has gone down a bit, leaving him only slightly warmer than usual.

The voices were getting louder now. They were in the other room, so he couldn’t make out what they were saying. But he supposed it was time to get up now anyway. Ephraim’s eyes gradually opened as he let out a quiet moan. To his surprise, a pair of similarly blue eyes and a brilliant smile greeted him.

“Brother!” Eirika exclaimed. She pulled him into a hug before he had a chance to react. The way she ended up holding him was uncomfortable and aggravated his headache, but Ephraim hugged her back anyway. Then he remembered what happened before he blacked out and tried to squirm out of her grasp. He didn’t want to shock his twin sister the same way he shocked himself. Only when he realized that he wasn’t electrocuting her did he notice that there were no sparks flying from his fingertips. Everything about him seemed perfectly normal… for now at least.

“Eirika…” His throat was still sore, however, and made his voice strained and creaky like an old man’s. “What… happened? Where am I?”

“You’re in the infirmary. Ike and Lukas found you passed out in the men’s washroom and brought you here. Wrys healed most of your injuries, including burns and a concussion, but…”

She trailed off as she untangled herself from Ephraim. He followed her glanced down to his hands. A bracelet made from white stone adorned each of his wrists. On both bracelets, foreign words were carved into them and wrapped around their entirety. Although they looked lightweight, he found out that they were somewhat heavy when he lifted his limbs up to examine them. The bracelets were warm to the touch; warmer than what he would’ve expected if they were just absorbing body heat. And the words engraved on them were definitely similar to the ones written in magic tomes. Which meant…

“What are these?” He asked.

“They are magic-nullifying bracelets.” A different voice answered his question. Standing in the doorway was an old man dressed in simple grey robes. He didn’t look out of the ordinary, but Ephraim knew him to be one of the best healers in the Order of Heroes. Sure, Wrys might not have as much power as his contemporaries. But his wisdom and kind manners made him invaluable to his patients.

“Young man, I believe that you have been stricken with what is known as Plurimana Syndrome. It’s a mysterious magical malady, found exclusively in Askr, with an unknown source and infection pattern. I’m afraid we do not know much about it, other than the infected person will become more… conductive of magical energies.”

“Conductive?” Ephraim stared down at his hands again, as if expecting them to produce sparks any moment now. If Wrys was saying what he thought he meant, that would certainly explain a lot about last night.

“I’m afraid I am not well versed in its mechanisms, but Plurimana Syndrome has very definitive symptoms besides a fever, body aches, and nausea. An infected person will absorb magic from his environment and release them in the form of random spells. He often has no control over his magic, which leads to self-harm in most cases and to death in very rare cases. Plurimana Syndrome mostly affects mages, but it can be inflicted upon a non-magical person sometimes. Although some mages will say that Plurimana Syndrome isn’t granting a non-mage magical power, but rather opening his senses to allow him to access magic.”

This was a lot to take in. Ephraim remained silent for several minutes while he took in what Wrys just told him. All those symptoms matched what he just experienced, especially the bit about uncontrolled spells. The soot on his clothes, the candle’s mysterious ignition, the flickering magical torches, the frozen water, and then the electrical sparks. Even his strange dream about fire could be explained by magic. Maybe that dream was his body’s way of warning him about the sudden surge of energy. The only thing that Wrys didn’t mention was the concussion, but the priest continued on before he could ask about that.

“Thankfully, if caught early, Plurimana Syndrome can be suppressed with the bracelets you’re wearing right now. Then it only feels like the common cold. As long as you wear those bracelets and take it easy, you should have no other problems until the syndrome goes away on its own.”

“And how long will that take?”

“It varies from two weeks to a month.”

“A month?!” Ephraim bolted upright, startling his sister. “I can’t wait that long! I have things to do!”

“Ephraim, please!” Eirika placed a gentle hand on his chest to coax him down. “The Order of Heroes has dealt with sick members before. It can function without you. You need to worry about recovering your strength first and foremost!”

“But…” There was one thing on his mind that concerned him more than anything else. He couldn’t mention it out loud though. He was certain that Eirika would admonish him for it. 

Instead, he asked Wrys about something else. “If I get over my fever and everything else, can I carry out my duties just fine?”

“Well… yes and no.” He frowned as he replied. “I would advise from stressful or especially strenuous activities like fighting. Intense emotions can cause your magic to surge and overwhelm the bracelets. So not only will they be unable to suppress your magic, they may also break in extreme circumstances. But if you are careful otherwise, you should be able to perform smaller tasks just fine.”

That sounded more like a ‘no’ to Ephraim. His main job in the Order of Heroes was to fight people. He wasn’t good at cooking or bookkeeping or other menial tasks. If he couldn’t fight, then he was basically worthless.

Eirika seemed more pleased with Wrys’s answer, however. “See brother? By getting well faster, you can get out of here faster. So don’t concern yourself with the rest of us!”

Ephraim let out an undignified ‘hmph’ in response. He still wasn’t satisfied, but he supposed he had no choice. As much as he hated to admit it, he wasn’t in fighting form right now. These bracelets and Wrys’s healing magic couldn’t completely cure him in an instant. Only time and rest could ward off the rest of his aches and fatigue.

“Now then, Lady Eirika. Our friend needs some peace and quiet. Unless, you have other questions for me…?”

“Actually, I do. Is this Plurimana Syndrome contagious? And where did this concussion came from, if not from it?”

“No, it is fortunately not contagious. Otherwise I wouldn’t have let your sister in here.” Wrys gave him a sly smile as he answered his next inquiry. “As for your concussion… Well, you did hit your head on the washroom floor when you shocked yourself. That would give anyone a concussion, even someone with a thick skull like yours.”

Eirika tried to stifle a laugh but failed. Ephraim blinked while processing what he said. Meanwhile, she gave him a pat on his head, ruffling his already messy hair.

“Get some rest, ok? I'll stop by again later. I promise.”

Just as Eirika and Wrys were leaving, Ephraim finally understood what the priest’s last sentence meant. Unfortunately he spoke up too late and they only heard him as they closed the door.

“Hey… wait! Was that a joke? Did you just make a jab at me, old man?!”

* * *

Ephraim spent most of the first day in a state between wakefulness and slumber. Lethargy settled into his bones after his encounter with Eirika and Wrys and, keeping his sister’s words in mind, he didn’t try to fight it. He instead slept the hours away, only waking up to eat the porridge and water that was brought to him. Eirika did return later in the day like she promised, but he was barely cognizant of her presence. Not only was he tired from his sickness, the healing magic that Wrys used made him drowsier. So he only caught a glimpse of her warm smile and whispers of her comforting words. Somehow, they healed him much more effectively than Wrys’s staff. Even if he didn’t remember much of it, Eirika’s visit allowed him to drift off into a peaceful sleep where his dreams were fleeting and hard to hold onto. Which was honestly for the best. Ephraim didn’t want to spend any energy on dreams tonight. He only wanted to get better.

On the second day, Ephraim fared a little better. He was awake and alert for longer stretches of time. So now he was able to see most of his friends that came to visit.

Eirika arrived bright and early in the morning. Ephraim was still a bit sleepy, but he perked up upon seeing her cheerful face. And she wasn’t the only one who dropped in. Accompanying her were Nino and Tharja, two mages that the twins were often paired with on the battlefield. The small but energetic young girl with green hair carried a basket of goodies while the sultry dark-haired woman held a colorful bouquet of flowers. Ephraim was actually surprised that Tharja was here. She wasn’t usually one for social niceties and often shied away from appearing in public with other, more peppy girls. Even now, she skulked behind Eirika and Nino once she placed her flowers in a vase.

“Ephraim, how are you feeling today?” Eirika asked.

“I’m feeling well. Thank you.”

“Ephraim! These are for you!” Nino shoved her basket into his lap. Cookies and candies spilled onto his blanket, spreading crumbs everywhere. “Eirika helped me make them! As well as Rebecca, Est, and even Tharja!”

“You guys made  _ these _ ?” Ephraim picked up a fallen cookie to examine it. To his amazement, they actually looked kind of nice. Usually when Nino and her friends tried baking sweets, they came out somewhat funny looking. But they tasted alright most of the time. When Ephraim bit into this cookie with purple frosting, his taste buds were assailed with sickly sweet sugar. But besides the overload of sweetness, it tasted pretty good. Better than their last attempts, even. 

“Well? How is it?” Nino inquired.

“Wonderful.” Ephraim replied through a mouthful of cookie. “Thank you for making them.”

“You’re welcome! My brothers always said that eating what you love will make you feel better! So I hope this works for you!”

“I think it will.” Ephraim chuckled. The way Nino talked about her brothers reminded him of Eirika when she was younger. It was one of the many reasons why he grew fond of her, even outside of battles. 

“Ephraim, may I take a look at your bracelets?” Tharja suddenly spoke up, much to his surprise. He nodded in response and held out his arms for her. The dark mage grasped his hands as she fingered the light-colored stone rings and gently twisted them this way and that.

“Hmmm. These are made from some high quality stones. The spellcraft on them is extraordinary too. Who gave these to you?”

“I don’t know. I was wearing these when I woke up.”

“The infirmary has a pair of them in case they get someone with Ephraim’s sickness.” Eirika butted in to answer her question. “He’s only wearing them until he gets better. Then he has to return them.”

“As expected.” Tharja glared at Eirika as if she resented her accusatory tone. “Still, it’s not everyday that you find someone with Plurimana Syndrome. If you need to get better faster, I’d be happy to come up with some curses to speed things along.”

“Er, thanks.” Ephraim partnered with Tharja quite often, perhaps more so than any other Hero here. The only reason why they weren’t super close right now was because of Tharja’s pining for another Hero. Still, he had gotten used to her curses and general creepiness. He knew that she struggled with showing affection the ‘normal’ way, so he came to understand ‘her’ ways quite well. And who knows? Maybe Tharja’s spells could help him recover before the next Arena season started.

Shuffled footsteps heralded the arrival of his healer, Wrys. He didn’t seem too alarmed at the audience his patient had. He did, however, appear fairly upset at the basket of sweets on the table and the mess on the bed. He hurried over as fast as his old legs could carry him, waving his staff to shoo the others away.

“No, no, no. Candies and cookies aren’t good for his recovery! Please take them away at once!”

“Sorry Mister Wrys!” Nino hauled the basket off quickly, dropping a piece of candy on the floor. As she bent over to pick that up, a few more candies spilled out. Tharja ended up helping her gather up all of the fallen treats.

“Can’t we leave some of them with him though? We worked so hard to make these to cheer him up and they won’t be fresh by the time he gets better. One or two cookies shouldn’t be that bad.” Eirika protested.

“Well, perhaps a few sweets won’t hurt. But do not give him too much! Especially not these!”

Wrys plucked another purple frosted cookie out of the basket. A rare look of disdain crossed his face as he warily showed it to the others like it was a rotting piece of meat.

“These purple ones have been cursed! I do not know what kind of curse it carries, but it surely can’t be good for one inflicted by Plurimana Syndrome.”

Ephraim stared at Wrys’s cookie in shock while he wiped away purple cookie crumbs from around his mouth. No doubt those goodies were Tharja’s creations. He knew that she had good intentions while baking them and hexing them, but he still couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Sure, Ephraim felt fine now. But he dreaded what the next few hours might bring.

“It’s just a generic get-well-soon curse. Nothing major.” Tharja mumbled under her breath. Wrys, luckily, had old ears so he couldn’t hear her words. “Besides, more healing magic can’t hurt him.”

“Ephraim’s sick  _ because _ of too much magic.” Eirika could hear her muttering perfectly well, however. “Tharja, we’ve talked about this before. Cursing people without their knowledge isn’t right.”

“It might not be right in your world, but where I come from, it’s absolutely normal.”

“Somehow I doubt that…”

While the others bickered about Tharja’s cursed cookies, Ephraim couldn’t resist another snack. This time he unwrapped a sticky, tan-colored cube. When he popped it into his mouth, he instantly recognized the smooth sweet taste of caramel. Not bad at all.

Unfortunately for him, Wrys’s eyes were much better than his hearing. “Ephraim! What are you doing?”

“Uh.”

“Oh! That’s enough! This young man needs his rest!” Apparently the candy was the last straw that broke his back. He ushered everyone outside after they aliquoted candy and cookies onto a plate. The plate of confectionaries was left on a table on the other side of the room, so Ephraim couldn’t access it so easily. Which was unfair in his opinion, but he was already too tired to argue against it.

After that incident, the visits from the next groups of people were kept brief. A bunch of his guests were friends from Magvel. Tana showed up with her brother Innes an hour or so after Eirika and the mages. She was excited to see that he was doing well and they had a lovely chat, although she did most of the talking. Innes, who wasn’t too enthused about being dragged here, made several snide comments about his sorry state. Ephraim retorted with a few of his own choice remarks. Tana sighed and grumbled about how guys couldn’t let go of a rivalry, even when one was sick, and pulled Innes away before things got too heated.

Seth arrived shortly after the Frelian siblings left. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to. Ephraim was used to his stoic nature and accepted his well-wishes graciously. And he had to assure him that this sickness wasn’t his fault and there was nothing that he could’ve done to prevent it. He told the knight that the Plurimana Syndrome strikes people at random, or at least that was what Wrys said. Thankfully Seth accepted that explanation without hesitation.

The next few visits were somewhat of a blur. Ephraim was already getting sleepy again, so he could only exchange a few words between them. Myrrh and Amelia came together and said hello. Although Amelia didn’t seem to mind that Ephraim was tired, Myrrh seemed a bit disappointed. He made a note to himself to chat with her later once he got better. 

L'Arachel dropped in soon afterwards. She was her usual loud and boisterous self, but she sounded genuine when she offered to heal him with her staff later. Ephraim accepted the offer but doubted that Wrys would let her lend a hand. Especially since the old man shooed her away for being too disruptive.

Then Joshua and Marisa stopped by to give him their sympathies. They had places to be, so the encounter between them was blissfully short. Unlike the meeting with Lute. She was more curious about Ephraim’s illness than Ephraim himself and he felt like an insect under examination. But fortunately the curious mage didn’t do anything harmful to him. She just studied his bracelets intently and poked around for a few minutes before Wrys interrupted her and showed her out the door. After that, he didn’t allow visitors for the rest of the day.

That gave him the peace and quiet he needed to catch up on sleep. Because of all the rest and the kind words from his friends, Ephraim felt a lot more energized the next morning. He was almost back to his old self, except Wrys wanted to keep him in the infirmary for one more day.

“Your vital signs look good. But the critical phase of the Plurimana syndrome has not passed yet. It may flare up and your condition may worsen quickly. If tomorrow you are still feeling well, we can assume that the worst has passed and you will be free to go.”

“Thanks.” Ephraim responded, even though he wasn’t feeling very thankful. Three days in the infirmary didn’t seem like a whole lot, especially when he thought the worse at first. But he had a feeling that this third day was going to be the worst. Not because he couldn’t stay awake for long periods of time. Rather, it was because he couldn’t just sleep the day away. He was going to be bored out of his mind without a constant stream of visitors like yesterday.

Luckily, Wrys had lifted his prohibition on visitors after Ephraim heartedly chowed down his breakfast. The first people to visit today were Heroes that neighbored him in the barracks. Raven, who lived across the hall from him, showed up to complain about the burnt smell that came from his bedroom. Apparently his sickness-induced dreams of fire did manifest itself somehow on that night. His bedroom didn’t actually burn down, but his bed was scorched black and the Order of Heroes had to replace it. Ephraim apologized to Raven, even though the smell wasn’t really his fault, just so he was satisfied enough to leave.

Then came Ike and Lukas, the two men who found Ephraim after he electrocuted himself. He didn’t want to think about what would’ve happened if they hadn’t found him so quickly, so he made sure to thank them profusely. Lukas shrugged off his thanks, stating that he screamed so loudly, it was a wonder that no one else came to help. That fact flustered Ephraim a bit and he didn’t pursue that topic any further. Instead, Ike wanted to talk to him about something else.

“Are you going to get better soon?”

“I should, yeah. Wrys is ok with releasing me tomorrow.”

“I mean, are you going to be well enough to fight in the next Arena season?”

Ephraim paused. He wanted to say yes. He barely felt sick today, so he could return to fighting form before the next Arena season started. But Wrys warned him against exacting physical activities, lest the Plurimana Syndrome flared up and ruined everything. As much as he desired the chance to test his skills in the Arena, he didn’t want to accidentally hurt any of his friends. Not only would he feel terrible afterwards, they wouldn’t let him back on the team ever again.

So he stayed silent. Ike sighed as he continued speaking. “If you can’t make it, we can find someone else to replace you. It’s not a big deal.”

“No. Wait.” Ephraim blurted out. “I can still fight. I’ll train more to make up for the days I’ve been sick.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” His mouth just kept digging him into a bigger hole. He’d better hope that Wrys’s warning was just an over exaggeration. Otherwise he was going to be in for a nasty surprise next week.

Ike stared at him with a solemn expression. Ephraim had a feeling that he didn’t believe his response and worried that he wasn’t going to let him fight anyway. But after a few seconds of tension, he gave him a nod.

“Well, as long as you think you’re up to it. But if you still aren’t better by the time the Arena season starts, I have to take you off the team. I can’t have you hurting yourself for glory.”

“I understand.”

And that was the end of that. Ephraim’s heart was still fluttering after they left the room. Why did he have to say something like that? Now he had to find a way to guarantee that his magical illness won’t be a problem in the Arena. If he messed up, it would make him look like a liar as well as an idiot. He didn’t regret giving such a hasty response though. He would have upset himself even more if he had turned down the chance right in front of the next season’s team captain, Ike. 

But how? How was he going to get rid of this Syndrome before he had to fight? A number of solutions raced through his head. He could accept Tharja’s offer of curses that she made yesterday. That sounded like an awful idea though. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her to not cast something malicious. Ephraim worked with her long enough to know that she was being sincere when she talked about it. He was more worried about any of Tharja’s curses backfiring or making things worse. That was why he was also hesitant about asking any other mages for help. Like Eirika said, the root of the problem was that Ephraim had too much magic. Adding more magic to him in the form of spells or curses seemed like a recipe for disaster.

Maybe he could try searching for answers in the castle library. Except he remembered the last time he went looking for something in there, and he didn’t want to repeat that again. Perhaps he should look outside the Order of Heroes then? If the Plurimana Syndrome was an Askrian disease, other people should know more about it. There was no guarantee he would find someone that could help him though. While these kinds of thoughts tormented him, another cleric stopped by his room to give him his lunch. She left in a hurry, possibly because his frantic mind darkened the expression on his face.

He didn’t care. All he could think about was what he was going to do over the next several days. He was so entrenched in his thoughts, he didn’t notice his bracelets were changing colors. His right bracelet took on a deep orange color with streaks of scarlet and gold as he held his bowl of porridge. Gods, he was getting sick of the same meals over and over again too. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. As he stabbed his spoon into the unappetizing slush, he noticed that it was bubbling and boiling like it just came from the stove. If it was that hot, then he couldn’t eat this. Ephraim placed the bowl to the side and reached for the cup of water instead. It was then that he noticed his left bracelet had suddenly changed from white to light blue. And that his water had frozen over at the same time. 

This all felt very familiar to Ephraim. All these strange happenings were similar to the ones that occurred on the night that he first fell ill. Except that he wasn’t going to dismiss them as strange coincidences this time. Putting two-and-two together, he grabbed hold of the water with his right hand and watched the ice melt before his very eyes. He held onto the cup for a few seconds longer, expecting it to boil in his hands. But instead, the colors drained out of both his bracelets, returning them to their original colorless state.

That was weird, Or maybe it was to be expected. When he was fooling around with his unintended magic for the little time that he had them, he wasn’t thinking about the Arena problem and had thus calmed down a bit. And those few seconds of clarity gave him a new idea. It was an insane idea that had less of a chance of succeeding than his other ideas, but if it worked…

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. “Ephraim, you have another visitor,” Wrys announced as he opened the door to allow the said visitor through.

“Hello brother. How are you feeling today? Better, I presume?” Eirika asked with a smile.

“Much better.” He replied while glancing behind her. The old priest had already left, so he wouldn’t be able to listen in on their conversation. Good.

“I figured, since you’re actually smiling for once. Did something happen?”

“Well, you’re here, first off.” A visit from Eirika always lightened his mood. “But listen. Do you think I can control my magic instead of suppressing it?”

“What? What are you saying?” Eirika’s eyes widened, as if she was watching her brother going crazy.

“I’m getting better, physically. But I can’t fight or anything while I have Plurimana Syndrome, or else I risk hurting myself and others.”

“But you don’t have to fight, Ephraim. You can take a break from it, you know.”

“I can’t! I mean, I don’t want to. We don’t know how long the syndrome will stay. And I can’t just sit around and do nothing and wait for it to leave. Especially when I’m supposed to fight in the Arena soon-”

“Gods, Ephraim. Is that what brought this up? You’re worried about a glorified dogfight?”

“Yes. No. That’s not the point. Instead of being sick for however long it takes, I can learn how to control the magic it gives me by learning how to use magic in the first place. That way I can at least stay productive. And who knows? Maybe the spells I pick up can be useful too.”

“That’s…” Eirika placed a hand under her chin. She obviously was a bit dumbfounded by his words. But she didn’t dismiss them immediately at least.

“You know that mages use books to cast magic, right? You’re going to have to read a lot of books.”

“I know that.” Ephraim growled. He didn’t like what she was insinuating.

“I just thought I’d never see the day. Ephraim the mage. It has a ring to it, I suppose. But how do you know if this will even work out?”

“I don’t. But I think I can already control my magic to some degree. Watch.”

Ephraim held up the glass of water that he was playing with earlier. He stared at it intently, willing it to freeze over. Eirika watched with a focused gaze as well. When nothing happened after a minute or two, Ephraim scowled and shook his head.

“It’s suppose to freeze. I did it just a few minutes ago. I swear I’m not making this up.”

Of course his magic won’t work when he needed it the most. He had to look like a moron in front of his dear sister too. Just as he was thinking these foul thoughts, the hue of the bracelet suddenly shifted into a bright yellow. That was the only warning before electric sparks sprang out of his fingertips and concentrated around the cup. He thought for a moment that he was going to get shocked again and braced himself for the worst. But instead, the water heated up to such an intense temperature, it exploded in his hands.

Ephraim gasped. Eirika shrieked. Glass shards flew everywhere. His blanket became soaked. Ephraim shook his hands to dry them while getting up and out of his bed.

“Eirika! Are you ok? I didn’t mean for that to happen!”

“I’m fine. Nothing scratched me, although now I’m a little wet.” She gestured towards the patches of water that stained her blouse.

“I’m sorry about that. But this is exactly why I have to control my power.”

“It only exploded because you were trying to use your power though. You don’t have to use it. You don’t have to fight. You could just relax for once and let the syndrome fade away peacefully.”

“But I do, Eirika. You know who I am. I’m not the kind of person that won’t take control of their own power. And like it or not, this magic is going to be a part of me for a while.”

“Ephraim…” She closed her eyes and sighed. After taking a moment to recollect herself, she spoke again.

“I’m not going to stop you. But I still have serious qualms about this. Who’s going to teach you, for instance? And can you really learn all about magic a week before you’re in the Arena?”

“A week and a half. And I’ll study day and night if I have to. It’s what I did to master the lance, so I’ll do whatever I can to master another weapon. And as for my teacher…”

Ephraim didn’t have anyone in mind when he came up with this idea. He could think of several potential teachers, but he would have to ask around first.

“What about Lyon?” Eirika helpfully suggested.

“No. Out of the question.”

“Brother, please! You haven’t spoken to him since he was summoned here!”

“And I have good reason to. You know what happens to him. What he did and will do to us. You’re really going to trust him to teach me about controlling magic?”

“That’s…” She clamped her mouth shut and turned her gaze downwards. His words were harsh, but true. Ephraim didn’t need to reacquaint himself with this Lyon to know that he was walking on the same dark path as the Lyon from his world. Eirika still believed in him for some reason though, and always pushed for a reunion. But even his sister’s pleas couldn’t dissuade him from his conviction. He didn’t want anything to do with him.

“Don’t worry sister. I’ll find someone trustworthy.”

“I don’t doubt it. But please be careful about it, ok?”

“Of course. I don’t want to worry you any further. I’ll be the greatest mage in all worlds, just for you!”

“Oh Ephraim.” That elicited a giggle from Eirika, which was what he was hoping for. “Just making it out in one piece would be enough for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can tell that I wrote this like a year and a half ago, when blade tomes were still king and I paired Nino and Tharja up with the buffbots Eirika and Ephraim. Aw, who am I kidding? Blade tomes are still broken.


End file.
